Blue Moon
by DevyStories
Summary: The world is full of many different creatures and legends. Santa Carla was the home to a group of vampires. But now Santa Carla has a new threat to worry about. The coming of Werewolves. Rated T for language, violence, drug and alcohol content, and suggestive themes. Includes an OC but don't think there'll be pairing quite yet.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! So this is the first fanfiction I'm posting online. Hopefully I get some feedback, I'm very excited! Just some notes though, this is pretty OC oriented, some things may not be completely cannon, but I'm taking creative freedoms. Also, this is a bit more "time ambiguous", so I'm not giving it a specific year. It'll still have the "80s vibe", most likely, but it may also have modern brands and cell phones, and things like that. Hope you enjoy!**

It was so weird moving to Santa Carla. Especially after living further north in California, where it was nothing but the woods, the cold, and the quiet. Down here it was almost the opposite. They did have one striking similarity though. Both had a knack for murder.

"How you doing back there, Red?" The driver up front, my father, asked back to me.

My gaze transferred from the truck window to him, "Yea, I'm cool." I smiled.

He grinned, white teeth gleaming, the point of his canines exposed, "That's great." He said, watching the empty streets as he searched for our new home.

My brother Blake sat at my father's side, gnawing on a strip of beef jerky without thought. "You know, pops, one thing I don't understand about us moving, is why did we move from one murder town, just straight to another?" He questioned curiously with a bit of a cheeky smirk.

Sometimes it was hard to tell if Blake and I were related. He had long and ragged black hair, supported with a bit of a goatee and moustache, while mine was a just as ragged, but orangey-red pixie cut, with my bangs being the longest part, reaching down to my chin. But we still had the same thin, fair skin, and the same pale green eyes. People would say that his were sharp and full of protection, while mine were bubbly, and full of curiosity.

My father sighed, knowing there wasn't much he can say, "It's not really by choice. It's all we can afford right now." He explained, craning his neck beyond the steering wheel of the truck to search for the house. "Not to mention," He continued, "No one will be suspicious of, you know." He said, leaving the end obvious for us.

Wasn't that hard to figure out the clues, especially being _werewolves_ and all.

Back in our old home, we had a peaceful life for the most part. All was fine and dandy, until the savages whom we called the Coyotes showed up. You see, the townspeople and us had an unspoken arrangement that they had no knowledge about. We'd take care of the mountain lion problem they had, along with any surplus of rodent or vermin they had, and they wouldn't worry about us.

But the Coyotes ruined it all. They ate too much, killed for sport, killed innocent people. They were the real monsters. My father and brother tried to get them to stop, fought them when they had to. But it just created more issues. The townspeople lost faith in us, and started to question us. The Coyotes had a personal vendetta they wanted to settle. It was just time to leave.

"Aha, there it is!" Father laughed heartily in pride. He pulled up his pickup into the driveway of the quaint, cozy little home. There weren't any neighbors for about half a mile up or down the street, and we were settled down in the middle of two hills. There were a few trees, and a lot of shrubs and bushes that resembled either baby palm trees or giant pineapples, but nothing like the wilderness up north. While that home smelled of fir and pine, this one smelled of salty beaches.

The house itself was actually really nice, dark wood panelling, white trims. It looked a bit run down, cobwebs still hung around. There couldn't have been a previous owner in months. "Wonder what happened to him."

"Probably dead." My brother pitched, grabbing what few boxes we had.

"Most likely." I couldn't help but agree.

In total we only had about five large boxes that all fit in my brothers long and beefy arms. That was another thing that was different. We were three years apart, him being 19, and me being 16, but he was tall and muscular, every girl's dream. I remained 5'3", being scrawny, but still fairly toned if I do say so myself.

We started setting the boxes down, the house was unfurnished, full of cobwebs, and the smell of opossums was potent enough even for a human nose.

"No place like home." My father chimed with the largest grin on his face. "And here's the good part," He started, setting down the cardboard box in his hand on the floor, "There's a butcher shop not too far from here. From what I hear, their supply is pretty fresh, and they're dealt with in humane ways." He informed us, clapping his hands together to brush off the dust that seemed to stick on everything in seconds, "So that means, we don't have to hunt unless we really have to."

That seems to be something one thing movie werewolves neglect to inform people. We don't always have to eat fresh kill. In fact it makes the beast take control more. We don't have to kill it ourselves. Essentially we're big puppies. If it was necessary, we could just eat kibble and live. But I like steak and bacon, so no kibble.

"Alright, that's awesome." I said, taking the box cutter to free the mat that would be my bed for the night.

My father started stacking the shelves with spices and canned food, "You know, to blend in more, you two should try to find a job here, too."

"I don't think I should be going into people's homes taking care of their children and dogs when it's the _murder capital of the world_." I had to remind him, and even got a chuckle out of him.

"I know." He said, "But the Boardwalk is about a fifteen minute walk from here. There's probably plenty of jobs there."

My brother nodded, pulling out his sleeping mat, "We'll see what we can do."

Seeing that there wasn't much I could do there, I offered, "You know, I can go down there now, see what I can find, maybe pick up some Chinese."

"Yea, that sounds great." My father yelled from the kitchen, "Just be home before dark."

"Why, is it a full moon tonight?" I asked.

"Nope." He replied, "But I'd rather not have you out at night, here in this city yet."

I rolled my eyes with a little smile, "Fine. I will. Though for the record, I can perfectly take care of myself!"

"I'm sure you can." My father remarked, I could hear the smirk on his face.

I tapped the pocket of my ebony jeans to ensure my phone was still in there, and then I was off.


	2. Chapter 2

Immediately leaving the house, I could feel the heat mixed in with the moisture of the nearby beach. The sun still shined brightly as ever, and hardly a cloud in the sky. It was tempting to transform to a wolf, make this 15 minute walk into a 5 minute one. But it was broad daylight. Not many trees for coverage. Plus not many clothes can _do_ doggy form. So human feet it was.

I followed the dirt road up the hill in the only direction I could assume would lead to the Boardwalk. The fine grains and clumps were already adhering to my black, loose high tops. As I climbed the gradual hill, an old red and white beat up car drove by. The passenger stared at me the entire time we passed. Had a bit of a feminine face, but I could only assume he was a boy from the frosted, spiked hair. His bottom lip hung open, as if he already saw the beast in me. He was actually probably our neighbor. Father would make us greet them sometime this week. Just to make us seem more normal. Like we're not part of a species that'd eat your pet guinea pig.

The Boardwalk actually wasn't all that bad at first glance. Just looked like a never ending carnival. There were games, arcades, kiddie rides, even a roller coaster that honestly didn't look all that trustworthy. Plenty of little shops. Some were probably family owned, some were obviously chain like Starbucks and a little McDonalds joint. There was a probably bigger variety of people than shops though. Different skin tones, different sizes, different styles. There was the obvious potheads with the obnoxious odor of marijuana, the preppy girls with too much perfume. The older men sitting outside at a sports bar, smoking their cigars and cigarettes, making bets. One of the downsides to having the senses of a dog. Smells become sickening.

It was the beginning of summer, so of course everyone would be out. After middle school, I was homeschooled by my mother. I constantly knew the freedom.

You actually may be wondering about my mom. She's not dead, nor did she leave. She's just a pack mother of sorts. She takes care of abandoned werewolf children. But for the meantime, Santa Carla wouldn't be the best place for them. I don't know when I'll see her again. I just know it'll be soon.

Anyway, the first part of the trip wasn't all that eventful. I got Chinese food, grabbed and completed applications, mostly for waiting jobs. Italian food places find it odd when you bring in Chinese food though. Either way, wasn't that eventful at first.

However there was a little comic shop that caught my eye. I was never all that into comics. I was always outdoors. But it just seemed interesting. To be fair they also had a cardboard cutout of a vampire on one side of the entrance, and a werewolf on the other. It was practically calling my name. When I entered, I noticed the kid from before there, talking to two guys behind the counter. They all looked about my age. The guy with the frosted tips looked like a fabric store just kind of threw up on him, and the two guys behind the counter looked like they just got out of JROTC.

I looked through the names and titles of comic books, some of them of course were recognizable. Others sounded like a guy down the block was personally making them while on a diverse selection of drugs. There were manuals for vampire hunting and monster slaying. I picked up one, the name escapes me, but it was something about killing werewolves. It was the typical things you'd generally see. There were parts that weren't true, like how werewolves can transform only during a full moon. In reality, we can transform whenever we want, but a full moon is when we feel more compelled, and seems to give us more strength. Then there were parts that were true, like our allergy to silver. And getting shot with a silver bullet, is practically an instant kill. It talked about how if a werewolf is cut in human form, fur would be seen under the skin. From all the papercuts I've gotten, that is a definite myth. However, bristles under the tongue was true, as well as sharp, curving fingernails.

"You have a werewolf problem?" A rough voice asked behind me, and like a magician's act, the three guys from the counter were standing right behind me.

I cocked my head, wondering if they were serious, "No. Just browsing." I responded.

"You're new here, aren't you? I saw you on my way home."

"Yea. I'm Red. Red Hyde." I introduced. Once I said my name, the guys decked in the camo clothes just kind of glanced at each other. "What?" I questioned.

"I'm Sam." My apparent neighbor introduced. "This is Edgar and Alan Frog."

The nodded with a little bit of a "hm" attached.

I couldn't help but chuckle, "What kind of name is Frog?"

"What kind of name is Red?" The one I presumed to be Edgar retorted.

"Touche."

"So what brings you here?" Alan asked, flipping through the comics.

"Um. . " I shrugged without a real answer, "I don't know. Just kind of exploring the new territory. Where I'm from, we didn't really have any of this stuff."

"So where are you from, exactly?" Edgar questioned further, and I was starting to wonder about all the questions.

Sam tried to subtly elbow Edgar in the side, though it turned out really obvious. "Asking too much." Sam hissed through his teeth.

"Maybe I should just go." I smiled friendly before turning to leave.

"Wait." Edgar snapped. I rubbed the bristles on the bottom of my tongue against the roof of my mouth, wondering if he saw them or something. I turned back around, and he handed me a comic.

"What is this?" I asked.

"Read the title." Edgar retorted again, "It's a survival guide for vampires."

"Well," I started, not really should what to say, "Thanks. But I think I'll be just fine." I grinned. They seemed harmless enough, I gave in, "How much?"

"Consider it a 'Welcome to Santa Carla' present." Alan explained.

"You'll need it." Edgar stated.

I thanked them again before quickly leaving. Now to get home, enjoy some Chinese food, and try to make this place feel like home.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey, father." I called through the house as I closed the front door behind me, the survival guide comic still in my hand.

"Oh good, you're not dead." Father poked with a grin. "Got food?"

"Chinese. Orange chicken, chow mein, fried rice, teriyaki, and barbecue." I listed out as I set out the takeout boxes on our moving boxes.

"Did you remember the wontons and the egg rolls?" Blake asked hopefully.

"Of course." I smiled, pulling out the little paper bag.

My father sat down on his knees, grabbing on of the takeout boxes, "Alright, lets dig in!" He started picking at the food with his fingers and tossing it in his mouth.

Blake chuckled, "He wants us to fit in, and then continues to eat with his fingers." He pointed out.

"What?" My father questioned, "Any food is finger food." He grinned widely, his canines exposed, "Besides, chopsticks always confuse the hell out of me."

We all shared a good laugh as we continued to eat.

"So how was the Boardwalk?" Blake asked, tearing at some barbecue chicken.

I shrugged, "A lot of different smells." I smirked, "But it was nice. People seemed okay. No one looked like a murderer. I think I even made a few friends and met our neighbor."

My father wiped his lips on his hairy arm, "Right, we have to go over there and introduce ourselves to them tomorrow." He remembered, before allowing me to continue, "But who are your new friends?"

"Well, maybe friends isn't the right term." I didn't know how to explain it, "They gave me a survival guide about vampires. There names are Edgar and Alan. Our neighbor, or at least probably their son, is Sam."

"A vampire survival guide?" My father questioned, "I did hear something about some groups of vampires around here." He said thoughtfully, "Think they're slayers?"

I shook my head, "It's weird. I mean, they're my age, and they really seem to believe it. But I don't think they possess the skill to be slayers."

Father nodded, "We'll have to keep a bit of an eye on them. But if they are slayers, you shouldn't hang out around them too much. I don't want them hunting you, especially if they don't realize we're harmless to them."

I nodded, "I understand."

"What about jobs?" My father continued to inquisite.

"Lots of food places. I applied to the Chinese place, the seafood shack, some Italian food place-"

"They should have garlic to protect you from the vampires." Blake snickered.

I chortled a bit, "Oh, shut up."

"Well it's good you seem to be adjusting." My father grinned.

"I'll look for places to work tomorrow." Blake said, "This place doesn't seem like good actual hunting grounds, so maybe I can go ahead, fix up cars or work for the butcher."

My father nodded, "That's a great idea, Blake."

My father was always so supporting. It was kind of unexpected. Of course he was protective, strong, sometimes demanding. Made sure we were able to protect ourselves. But he was loving, caring, and fun. Lots of fond memories with him and our mother.

"Alright, well I'm kind of full, maybe in about half an hour we can go on a bit of a nighttime run?" My father offered.

Blake laughed and grinned joyously, "Sure, sounds great."

As fun as it sounded, I just wasn't really up for it, "No thanks, I'll take a rain check."

"You sure, Red?" My father asked, "You feeling okay?"

"Yea." I reassured him, "Just tired from all the walking today, and the driving."

"Alright." My father smiled, putting his large hand on my shoulder.

As time passed, I skimmed through the comic once or twice. It was pretty interesting, but like the werewolf comic at the shop, I didn't know if it was all accurate. I've never seen a real vampire. Or if I had, I didn't know it.

My father trotted down the stairs, already transformed into the dark wolf with blue eyes. My brother followed him out from his room. Because of the whole naked thing, we've learned to transform in privacy. "Alright, Red, we're heading off. Remember, if you need anything-" My father began to speak before I interrupted.

"Just howl. I know father." I smiled as I gave them a little wave goodbye. I had to open the door for them, due to the lack of current opposable thumbs, and they rushed out.

Another thing many people don't really know about werewolves, is there are two other forms we have. One is more of a wolfman, the other is werewolf. Wolfman was essentially just a hairier version of our human form. Werewolf is when we take the shape of a wolf. Our werewolf form was faster, and probably more stable. When a wolfman, it's like two sides fighting for control. There is instinct and judgement. While both are good, it's kind of difficult having both of them in the driver's seat. So it's best to just stick to one end of the spectrum. Plus, werewolves are a lot faster.

I sat back down on the mat on the floor, leaning against my elbows as I flipped through the pages over and over. I couldn't help but think about those three boys. They couldn't possibly know vampires were real, could they? Were they just crazy? Were they suspicious, or did they know for sure? I've never seen a vampire, maybe they're not as subtle as I would think they'd be. I wondered if they'd be able to know if I was a werewolf, or just some form of supernatural. It was unnerving. Plus the fact that one of them was my neighbor. Would it really be smart to go on nightly runs when we live so close to humans? In my old home, we were very secluded. Surrounded by nothing but trees for a good mile diameter. Here we're surrounded by the giant pineapples.

I guess I would just be stuck wondering. It's too risky. One of the downsides to being a supernatural being. Everyone and everything is out to get you.

 _HOOOOOOWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOLL_

There was a long howl in the distance, followed by a wicked cackle. I knew my father and brother were out, but it couldn't have been them. It was way too far out. It wasn't their laugh, but I could recognize it.

" _The Coyotes_."


	4. Chapter 4

"What are they doing here?" I whispered to myself. They couldn't possibly have the audacity to follow us for miles and miles all the way down here. I don't know what they would even want. I know there was a fight between my father's old pack and their pack, because of their beastly ways. But I didn't think it was worth coming down all this way.

There was another predicament I found myself in though. I couldn't call my father without possibly alerting the Coyotes. I mean they weren't the smartest, but they still had their senses. I'm sure my father and brother heard them though. It was hard not to. Humans for miles could have heard it. I'm sure they'd be fine, but I know I'd be staying up all night.

There was the roar of a motor coming by though. A grumbling motorcycle near. I don't remember the Coyotes ever riding bikes, but who knows, they may have wanted something stylish or luxurious for themselves. They were psychotic beasts, I figured it was best not to question their modes of transportation.

I peeled the blinds slightly down to get a good view. There was only one, and it was probably going too fast to make a stop here. I continued to stare out, before finally the cycle passed. It didn't look like any of the coyotes I'd seen. It was just a guy, dark curly hair, in his early 20s with a Bohemian looking girl on his back, arms wrapped around his waist. No one I'd ever recognize. Maybe they were related to that Sam kid. Just hopefully they don't get stuck in whatever shitstorm the Coyotes will be bringing with them.

I sat by the floor lamp, and nuzzled into my thick blanket. My head rested on my knuckles, as I looked more through the comic that was given to me. Maybe I just imagined the howling. Maybe it wasn't even the Coyotes. Maybe it was my father and brother. There can't be anything wrong.

"This comic will drive me crazy." I muttered, trying to blame the problems on thin sheets of dead tree.

I ran my fingers through my ginger hair, pulling at my fringe as I tried to figure out what to do. Maybe . . . Maybe I should go see those guys tomorrow. They might be my only hope in some case where the Coyotes did travel miles for some form of revenge.

But how do I even bring that up? It might lead to them asking questions. Like why was I so skeptical, then so adamant after one day? Or how would I even know it was a werewolf? Or a werewolf pack for that matter? There was so much risk in it. I didn't know what I could do. So I thought of the best idea.

Cross that bridge when I get there.

It's worked with many other problems. Hopefully it works here too.

I finally dropped my wrist, and rested my head on the thin pillow. My father and brother would be fine if they faced the Coyotes. I know it. They're strong, and know control. My mother was all into that stuff. Self control. home remedies. She drilled it into their heads. They know how to handle any situation. I just needed to sleep.

It was a bit of a rough night of sleep. I don't know when I fell asleep, but I know I kept waking up every hour in a drowsy state of confusion, before falling back asleep and repeating that cycle. My blanket was knotted up between my legs, half of it on the rough, flat gray carpet.

A yawn transitioned into a tiny howl, as I rubbed the back of my hands against my eyes. "I need bacon and a shower."

I grabbed some clothes from my box and shuffled over to the bottom floor bathroom and splashed a bit of icy cold water on my face. I had slept in the clothes from the day before, but it was no biggie. I'm amazed someone remembered to set out the bobby pins cup in the bathroom, as I plucked one out and pinned my hair back. Most likely it was either my father or brother looking for something else, and decided that if they don't put it there now, they'd be lost throughout the house forever. I put down the wooden toilet seat and laid my clothes on top of it as I stripped out of yesterday's.

The water was cold and crisp for the most part, I wondered if the water heater even worked. Wasn't too big of a deal, I could handle it.

After I got out I put on my new clothes, which were some nice black jeans that were a bit shredded, and they came that way, I promise, and a loose light blue tank with lighter, bleached splotches.

I checked my phone as I used a towel to dry my hair, and already got a response from quite a few places I applied. I would just have to do the interviews and I'd be all set. It was still early in the morning, so I had a feeling my father and brother were still sound asleep.

"I'm still craving bacon." I mumbled to myself as I headed for the kitchen. Our fridge was still near empty. We just had to break it in a bit more. But low and behold, there was a fresh pack of bacon in one of the clear drawers.

I put a pan on the stove, turned on the heat, and then proceeded to use my claw to tear the seal. As the pan got hotter, I threw the strips on and listened to the satisfying sizzle. I knew if my father was in the kitchen he'd be wanting to throw in some minced garlic or some chives, but bacon was bacon, which was fine on its own. Sometimes it was hard to believe he was a werewolf, considering all the different flavors he loved to use.

It was probably one of the few things my brother and I didn't know about our father. His past. We know some things, like he has quite a few brothers, whom we never met. But we didn't know if he was born a werewolf, or made a werewolf. We knew our mother was made a werewolf after her ex-boyfriend from her young adult years transformed her. She was almost suicidal until my father came along and showed her the bright side of it all, and how to live with it. But he never told us how he became one. I don't even think he even told mother.

Maybe if he was made one, he might have wanted to become a chef. I don't know. I don't think I ever will.

I grabbed the sizzling bacon between my claws and flipped it when there was a soft knock on the door. _Can't be Coyotes, I don't think they know the definition of soft_. But still had to be prepared anyway. Quickly I put the cooked bacon in a paper plate, and turned down the heat for the strips that were still cooking. I went towards the door, one hand behind my back as my claws protruded out and curved a bit more.

Quickly, I twisted the knob and jerked it back.

"Good morning!" Was the sweetest chime I've ever hear.


	5. Chapter 5

"Uh . . . Good morning?" I greeted the lady at my door, in a very confused state.

She seemed like a sweet lady. Short blond hair, a long skirt and a sweater. Small little hooped earrings, no make up. To be fair, it was like, eight in the morning.

"I'm sorry if it's early, I just baked these fresh chocolate muffins, and I wanted to greet our new neighbors. I saw you yesterday on my way home." She grinned, "I'm Lucy. Lucy Emerson." She extended her hand.

I shook hers and smiled, "I'm Red Hyde."

"Oh, your folks hippies?" She poked playfully.

I shrugged, "You can say very attuned with nature." I admitted.

"I know how that was." She laughed joyously. "Are you the only one here? You're so young."

"Oh no," I chuckled, "I have an older brother and a father. They're just sleeping. Long night." I explained, "But I'm sure they'll love the muffins, if I don't eat all them first." I joked, and we both shared a little laugh.

"I also have two sons. One is in the car, for some reason he refuses to come out. I may have to go and grab him." Lucy explained, "My other one is sleeping in a bit. Last night he had a date."

"That one doesn't happen to ride a motorcycle, does he?" I questioned.

"He does. I'm sorry, did he wake you up?" Lucy asked caringly.

"No, no, not at all." I assured her, "Just wondering that's all." I explained, "Well, I'd invite you and your coy son inside, but . . we don't exactly have furniture, and the only food we have is bacon . . "

"Oh it's fine." Lucy assured me, but then she looked at me concerned, "How do you guys not have furniture?" She asked.

 _How exactly do I explain that we had to leave in a bit of a hurry to her without it seeming like I'm part of anything supernatural or illegal_.

"House fire." The best lie I could think of. "No hope for that place, so we just moved." I tried to play off nonchalantly. "Father still needs to get furniture."

"Oh, well if he'd like, I'd be happy to help out. A woman's touch is always handy." Lucy chimed.

"That'd probably be great." I smiled, "Then I can probably invite you in, once we get chairs, and food that isn't fat and grease." I'm not sure if I ever would, considering her son is affiliated with those could-be slayers. Maybe he'd figure something was up. But she seemed so nice. "Just so you know though, so there's no confusion, I do have a mother." I had to point out, to avoid any awkward situations, "She's just away on . . " I thought quickly, "Business."

But Lucy just laughed her cheerful laugh, "Oh, I'd have no intention. I've been divorced, and my last interest ended kind of . . . messy." She said, looking down to her side, before looking back at me, "I'm not looking for a relationship right now. Just hoping to become friends with our new neighbors."

"Well that's great." I grinned, "Well once my father is up from his slumber, I'll be sure to let him know you dropped by, with these delicious smelling muffins."

"Thank you!" Lucy chimed, "Alright, well I should get going before my son throws a fit. But it was nice meeting you, Red!"

"You too, Lucy. Bye bye!"

I gently closed the door as she left to her van. I looked out the blinds and watched as she got in and drove off.

I continued to watch, until a lightly charred scent filled the room.

"Crap, the bacon!"

About half an hour later, my father and brother woke up. And they were ready for the odd combination of chocolate muffins and crispy bacon.

"She sounds sweet." My father noted as he took a chunk out of his muffin.

"So this was the lady who is the mother of the possible slayer you met yesterday?" My brother inquired.

"Yea." I shrugged, "But she seems like a reasonable lady. Probably wouldn't believe in such nonsense." I picked chocolate chips out of the muffin and tossed them into my mouth, "Though if she asks, our old house burned down, and mom is just away on business."

"Our house burned down?" Blake questioned.

I shrugged, "It was the only way I could explain our lack of furniture."

He muttered an "alright" as he stuffed bacon inside his muffin.

"You heading to Boardwalk today?" I asked Blake, and he nodded with a mouthful of bacon and chocolate.

"Yea." He gurgled, swallowing before he choked, "Got to find a job."

"I won't be at the house either today." My father notified us, "I got to try to find a job somewhere around town."

"Sadly they don't need any hunters around these parts." Blake sulked, considering that used to be their job. "You know we probably could have moved North up into Oregon, find their murder capital of the world up there, _and_ been able to find a city that not only allows, but needs hunting as a lifestyle?" Blake joked, though it wasn't all that bad of an idea.

"We don't need hunting." My father smiled, "This is our opportunity to try to get away from that. We may be werewolves, but we're still human."

"Many may disagree with that statement." I pointed out as I finished off my muffin, "Anyway, I should head out. I have to do interviews today."

"Good luck, Red."

"You too, father."

I grabbed a black hoodie, and a cross-body bag to carry my phone and wallet in before heading out on that trek again.

The interviews went well. Granted, I don't think I'm working down at the German schnitzel joint, because I called the boss a sir. I'm sorry, but that lady was _butch_. But the Italian place, and a little '50s diner were both interested in hiring me. And to be honest, the Italian place was looking kind of nice. Blake was right, easy access to a lot of garlic in case of vampires. But it was also a fancy place, full of silverware. _Actual_ silverware. Like, that shit is made from goddamn silver. So I might be having to wear rollerskates and rolling around giving people milkshakes with those red and white striped paper straws. But hey, I'd be getting paid. The first thing I'd probably want to get myself is an actual mattress.

Although speaking of those milkshakes, I did grab one in a takeout cup, and they were actually pretty damn good. I sat down on a bench outside and continued to drink it as I just watched the people around me.

Maybe it's more of the doggy side in me, but strangely I was perfectly okay with just sitting and watching. Everything was fascinating. I sipped on it, the thick cream slowly coming out of the straw. Mainly I just started to reminisce the past as I sat outside.

The strange thing is, being a werewolf isn't necessarily a lifestyle. It was just like being a different race, but with a bit more maintenance. Pale humans have to wear sunscreen, we have to make sure we get a lot of protein and avoid silver. Oh, and still wear sunscreen in my case. But there was so much more to my life. I loved going outdoors and being active. I liked exploring, and reading different legends, wondering if they're true. Hopefully I can get back into it.

"So you're back here. Still alive?" A voice came from my right, and I recognized it as Edgar's. He glared down at me, holding a cup of what I assumed was soda, and a takeout bag from one of the many burger joints.

"You know," I started, as I took a quick sip of my shake, "That's not a very nice way to greet people. Makes it sound like you're almost disappointed." I smirked, with the striped straw in my mouth.

"Sorry." He muttered stoically.

"It's fine." I shrugged. "Want to sit down?" I offered.

"No."

"Guessing you never learned social skills?" I asked, cocking my head.

"Parents weren't ever awake long enough to teach them. Besides, I don't need them when I'm hunting the undead."

"Ah, that whole thing."

He looked at me like I was the crazy one, the ironic thing was, neither of us were, "You read the guide we gave you yesterday?" He inquired.

"Yea." I nodded, "Wasn't half bad actually."

"The garlic part doesn't actually work." Edgar told me with a matter-of-fact tone. Which was starting to get oddly convincing. Even if I didn't know anything about the hidden world that is paralleled with urban society, I would almost start to believe him, just because he was so confident in it. But crazy people are also confident. He could have no idea what he's actually talking about. But I had to keep my cool.

"Oh shoot. That was the only reason I wanted a job at that Italian food place." I poked and smirked, trying to play it all off.

"Just try not to get yourself killed. The rest of that information is still pretty accurate." Edgar explained.

"You tell this information to all the girls, or just the pretty ones?" I asked, not only trying to flatter myself playfully, but also maybe get him off my trail a bit. No one would think a vain, ditzy girl was a werewolf.

"Just the ones I think are smart enough to survive." He said with his rough voice. I was starting to believe it was his natural voice at that point. Puberty must have not liked him.

It made me curious, "How could you tell I was smart enough to survive?" I asked as I crossed my arms, still sipping at my milkshake.

"It's an instinct." He stated simply.

"Mhm, sure."

The watch on his wrist beeped. I recognized it as one of the ones a lot of outdoorsmen wear. The ones with the military time, the temperature, a compass, and all sorts of things like that.

"I got to go back to the shop." Edgar stated, "Just be careful in this city."

"Will do." I said, lifting my milkshake as a little cheer before taking more sips, "Have fun."

"Good bye." he turned and walked off with the burger bag in his hand.

While he seemed harmless, I still couldn't help but wonder, was he warning me to be wary of the city, or be wary of him and his pals.


	6. Chapter 6

"Didn't I just see you, Red?" Edgar asked as I walked into the comic book shop. It'd been a good hour since I spoke to Edgar last, but I had nothing else to do. Granted, talking to someone who could possibly kill me was dangerous. But I don't know. They may be useful. Especially if the Coyotes are in town.

"Yea, so?" I asked and smiled, sitting on a barstool at one of the counters they were working out, "Can't I hang out with my _cool, new friends_?" I questioned.

Sam was there as well, and he nudged Edgar a bit, "She's calling you guys cool. She might not be all too right in the head, but I'd risk it."

"Aren't you friends with them too?" I asked, leaning over.

He just shrugged, "Because of me, they're a lot cooler than they were before."

"Says the fashion victim." Alan remarked, as he carried around a box of comics, setting them down on the appropriate shelf.

I looked around at the store, noticing that besides us four, there was only about two other people. One of them had his nose stuck in a comic, the other seemed to be using this place as a cover to stare at girls asses from a distance.

"So, business always booming?" I asked sarcastically.

"It has its days." Edgar said, "You want water?" He asked.

"Um . . " I paused, "Sure?" I asked. _You can't exactly put silver in water. At least not in any way I can think of._

Alan and Sam looked at him, and as he handed me the glass, he nodded while glancing at them. _That wasn't at all suspicious_.

"I'm not going to drop dead once I drink this, right?" I questioned, pointing to the dixie cup of water.

"You shouldn't." Edgar said in his usual stoic, completely serious way.

Cautiously I sipped the water, and they all just kind of stared. I was surprised there was no burning sensation. No silvery taste, no crushed up wolf's bane. When I looked back up at them, they seemed shocked too.

"Okay, don't tell me there's a roofie in my drink. . ." I played it off.

"Just the opposite." Edgar responded, "Holy water." He pointed, "Just picked up a gallon this morning from the local church." he explained.

"You were testing to see if I was a vampire?" I snapped. If this was a book or a movie, I'd be insulted for being considered a vampire when I'm a werewolf.

"Had to make sure. You were acting suspicious." Edgar explained.

The irony.

"I'm really starting to question my decision on why I thought this was a good idea." I admitted to myself.

"At least you're clean." Alan said, going behind the counter along with Sam.

"Well," Edgar corrected, "At least you're not a vampire."

"You guys are really serious about this whole vampire thing." I pinched the bridge of my nose, "You know there's a normal life you guys could have. It doesn't involve hunting . . imaginary beings." I told them. They shouldn't throw themselves in this dangerous world.

"None of its important." Edgar said.

"We do what we have to, to make sure everyone else can live their normal life." Alan continued.

My eyebrows furrowed a bit, "Says who?" I asked, "Who told you guys to do that?"

"It's just how it's suppose to be." Edgar defended.

I put my hands up in defeat, "Well whatever." I sighed, "Just . . . don't get yourselves hurt." I warned them, as I grabbed my dixie cup, crushed it, and threw it at the trash can. I got up, and walked out.

I'm going to be honest, I have no idea what I was doing. It was risky being around them. They tested to see if I was a vampire, what if they tested if I was a werewolf. One touch of silver, and my skin burns like it's against a hot iron. But there was something about them. A sense of security. Like maybe they could help with the Coyote problem that may or may not even exist in Santa Carla. I don't even know if they're good slayers. I don't even know if they're slayers. They could just be kids high on sugar playing make believe at the age of sixteen. Maybe it was my human instincts wanting friends, but if that was the case, my human instincts were dumb. Those are the types of guys you go to if you're a normal human. I just felt all over the place, scattered. Maybe it was just moving. That had to be it.

Maybe I should just go for a run. Yea, that's it. A nice run through the hills to clear my head. The wind in my fur. Trust me, after sixteen years of being a werewolf, that phrase will still always sound weird. The sun was starting to go down, I'm sure I'd be fine.

Just in case, I shot my father a quick message telling him what I was doing, especially since I won't have my phone on me. Or any clothes for that matter.

I headed out to the hills, pretty far from the residential areas and local streets. Still wasn't much trees, but at least people may think I'm just a wild animal. The sun still barely peaked over the horizon as I kicked off my shoes and peeled my clothes off. A shiver went up my spine, as a breeze brushed past my skin. Quickly the shiver went away, as the fur rapidly grew, like the sped up time lapse of grass growing. My face shifted, and my joints cracked and shifted. It felt so nice being in this form after so long. My fur remained the same red color as my hair when I was human. My eyes still the pale blue. But I was so much more than human. I felt free.

With my paws I dug a quick hole and nudged my clothes in there. Didn't matter if they got dirty, but I'd prefer they didn't get stolen. But now, I can just run.

The hills and the rocky mountains were wonderful. Covered in a soft, fine dirt. The moon was only three quarters, but it felt amazing. I could smell the little cedar and pine they had out here. But it was amazing. I thought nothing could ruin this night.

Until I leaped over the top rock.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"I thought there was a familiar scent." A large man stood there with his back turned towards me, hunched over and his body covered in fur. "I thought it was just a rat." He retorted as quickly snapped his head towards me. His amber eyes glowed against the moonlight.

"Coyote." I yelped, slowly sidestepping backwards away from him.

He let out a malicious chuckle, "I never understood why you and your family called us Coyotes. Coyotes are scrawny little cowards, scavengers mostly. They try to hunt, but humans got them whipped. Just like you." He said, beginning to circle.

"We call you Coyotes, because you have no self control." I said quietly, trying to back away without slipping on any rocks.

"I prefer Logan." He stated. "I remember your name, little Red."

Logan took a few steps closer, "Now tell me, little cub, you scared of the big bad wolf?" He howled with laughter before shouting, "Sick her, boys!"

More howls of laughter came from the bushes, as they started charging closer in their wolf forms.

"You should be running."

I immediately took off as fast as my paws could take me. I stumbled down the rocks and hills I once so gracefully glided across. But I was less scared of fall and breaking bones than I was of them. These animals had no mercy.

I couldn't go home. There had to be at least five of them, and without notice, I don't know if my father and brother could take them on. Not to mention our neighbors might see. I had to go somewhere with more people. Even if they are Coyotes, they have to know that they can't take on a rally of angry humans. Anyone knows, it's better to take on one slayer, than a mob of angry people.

 _But maybe three slayers._

My heartbeat raced like the upbeat cadence of a drum solo. The Boardwalk probably won't even be open. The boys might be at home. But if anything, I could at least lose them.

I continued to sprint through shrubs, as they scratched and snagged on my fur and flesh. But it couldn't be that much further. The smell of popcorn still lingered around that place. I had to be close. My paws bent and twisted in awkward angles against the rocks, but the pain would be temporary. The pain would be temporary. I kept reminding myself, the pain would be temporary, death is permanent, and painful death is worse. They may not even kill me, but make it a never ending hell. It's what they did to the puppies and bunnies of the neighborhood. They put deer heads on fence posts for fun. I didn't understand their personal vendetta against my family, but all I know is, I didn't need to to figure out they may do so much worse to me.

Finally I felt the cold concrete against my pads. I continued to sprint as fast as I could. But my chance of losing them were slim, with the bloody paw prints. They had my scent.

"Please be there, please!" I begged.

"There's nowhere to run, pup!"

"Should we eat her as a wolf, or as a little girl?"

"I hear wolf is gamey, but girl should taste like a tender chicken!"

I made the final turn to get to the path that lead to the comic shop.

 _There were no lights on._

"God damn it!" I cried out.

Maybe they have silver, or something I could use against them. I don't care if it burns me, I need to do something.

I skidded, and realized the gate was completely shut. I banged on it with my paws, whimpering and howling.

Before I gave up the last grain of hope though, they were opened a tiny bit, enough for two bodies to roll out. They were armed with knives, which I could only assume were silver. It was Edgar and Alan.

"Back! Get back!" Alan shouted. He held one knife right side up, and the other upside down.

The Coyotes snarled at them, growling with their disgusting slobber dripping from their faces.

The amber eyed wolf stepped forward, the only one who was calm and collected. His body shifted and morphed though, as he changed to a wolfman.

"Silly little boys and their toys." Logan remarked with a horrible smirk.

Sam rolled out from the door as well, holding his own little silver knife.

"Three little wannabe slayers." He chuckled, "This is precious." He pretended to wipe a tear from his eye, "This isn't your fight. This is unfinished business."

"Well your business ain't going to move to Santa Carla." Edgar growled.

Logan laughed more, "You're not stopping me. You may have your silver, but you're outnumbered like you can't imagine. My boys don't mind pain, they enjoy it. You'd only be able to kill a few of us, and then what? There's more of us, watching and waiting. We're a growing pack, and you may not be prepared. What if you're sleeping? What if your mother is sleeping? What if you're in the shower? Or staying late, past your bedtime wanting to go hunting for the things that go bump in the night? You'll never be prepared." Logan teased, "And that'll be the worst pain of all. Not knowing." He finished, "Let's go boys. We'll finish this feast another night." He said, turning back into his werewolf form, and running off into the hills.

"I don't like the sound of that, guys." Sam whimpered.

Edgar and Alan turned back to me, there knives were still gripped tightly in their hands.

"Think this one is a werewolf?" Edgar asked Alan for his opinion.

"I don't know." He admitted, "Could just be their prey. Looks small enough."

"We got to test it." Edgar said, putting his blade so once he pressed it down, it would just be flat against my skin. I whimpered and back up.

"Guys, what are you doing?" Sam snapped, "It's probably just a normal dog or a fox or something. It's already been scared enough for one night, can you two give it a break?"

The two of them turned to glance at Sam, and that was my chance. I got back to my feet, and ran, heading back towards home before the Coyotes came back. And now because of me, the three slayers are on their hitlist.

"Hey, get back!" Edgar shouted, about to give chase, before giving up. I was so screwed.


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning, I was just in pain. My wrists and ankles hurt, like they were just twisted and bent in multiple directions that they shouldn't me. I still had thorns, pricks, and splinters in my hand. Not to mention the multitude of cuts on my body in general.

I didn't remember making it to my room last night, so I was relieved when I woke up. My back and neck were sore, since my mat and pillow were still in the living room, and I just thought sleeping naked on the carpet would be nice. I just felt like shit.

"The pain is temporary, the pain is temporary." I grumbled to myself as I pulled on some boyshorts and a little yellow day dress. I opened my door and moseyed out of my room. My father and brother were up, so it had to be at least mid-morning.

"There's the sleepyhead." My father grinned, before seeing all the scratches, "What happened to you?" He asked concerned.

I didn't know if I could tell him the truth or not. He may get worried and move us again. Or want to try to deal with it himself. I wouldn't mind the moving, but I have a feeling they'd only follow us like a horrible virus.

"I accidentally fell into a thorn bush." I lied, rubbing the inner corner of my eye.

"Ouch." My brother chuckled. This morning they were having themselves a bit of ham my father picked up at the butcher shop the night before.

"Oh yea," my father started, wiping his lips with his arm, "Lucy is coming by today. I ran into her at the little record store at the Boardwalk. We're going out to pick out furniture, and her sons may be stopping by."

"Cool." Blake said simply.

"I'll probably just stay in my room." I shrugged it off, and immediately Blake and my father gave me odd looks.

"You don't ever really stay in your room." My father pointed out.

"You don't even have a bed." Blake chuckled, "Is everything okay?"

"Yea, I'm fine." I defended, "Just tired after last night's run and . . fall."

"Alright." My father agreed, "I'm sure Lucy will miss you. She had such nice things to say yesterday, calling you sweet."

I shrugged, "I'm sure I'll see her later." I groaned, rubbing my eyes, "I need to wake up." I muttered to myself before heading to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face. Maybe that'd also reduce the redness and itchiness from these damn scratches.

I needed to take a shower. I may not have been able to wash the bruises and horrid memories, but I could at least wash off the blood stains and dirt.

But I just sat down on the shower floors. I didn't bother scrubbing, just letting the dirt roll off me.

I had to tell them. I just had to. I can't keep something like this a secret. My father and Blake can prepare. Maybe get into contact with their old pack. Do something. Maybe they'll find out on their own. These guys aren't exactly subtle. But then they'd know I kept it a secret. _I need to tell them_.

Finally I began to scrub at them, taking a rag and soap and rubbing my arms, legs, and torso.

"These could have been worse." I reminded myself.

 _These should be worse._

Coyotes are older, stronger, and faster than me. They should have been able to catch me like no problem.

" _You should be running_."

I banged my fist on the wall, "Damn it!" I cried out.

It was a trick. They wanted me to run. They wanted me to reveal my father and Blake. They wanted me to reveal whoever our new pack could have been.

And I lead them straight into the slayers.

Little boys who might not even have any experience. It could all just be a twisted game they're playing. I have to know they're prepared. They can't die because of me.

I shut off the water, and put on the same clothes I had on before the shower.

"Hey father," I started, "I need to talk to you about something . . ."

I looked out into the living room, and it was Lucy, her oldest son and his girlfriend, and Sam.

"Oh, hi Red!" Lucy chimed.

I waved and smiled, "Good morning, Lucy."

"What is it, Red?" My father asked with a grin.

I couldn't tell him now. I couldn't make Sam suspicious.

"Um . ." I had to think quickly, "Can I have a king sized bed?"

My father and Lucy just kind of laughed.

"We'll see what we can do, Red."

"Thanks." I faked a small smile and nodded.

"Oh, dear," Lucy noticed the scratches on my body, "what happened to you? Looks like you got into a fight with the local cacti!"

I looked down at my arms, and realized I should have worn a sweater. My dad gave me a bit of a glare too. Sam cocked his head at me suspiciously.

"I went for a jog yesterday." I half lied, "And I kind of fell. So that cacti theory may not be wrong." I chuckled.

"What time?" Sam asked, and Lucy hissed at him.

"Um. ." I stalled, "A reasonable time. I don't know, I don't have a watch, and I don't like to take my phone on jogs." I mean, this was the truth, of the half lie.

"See any strange things out there?"

"Sam!" Lucy hissed, before smiling towards us, "I'm so sorry. My son has a wild imagination. He loves to read comic books."

"Mom, you know I don't." Sam defended, and staring straight into her eyes, as if telling her something.

Lucy just sighed, "Anyway, well we should get going and get you guys that furniture as soon as possible."

"Alright, well, Blake, Red, I'll be back later." My father grinned as he left.

"So that's your bike out there?" Blake smiled as he asked Michael.

Michael let out a little smirk, "Yeah, that's mine."

"Sweet, can I check it out?"

"Sure."

Blake, Michael and Star went outside to examine the motorbike.

So that just left Sam and me.

"So you weren't out last night? Let's say around the time the Boardwalk closes?" Sam inquired.

"No." I answered plainly, "Were you?" I smiled, "Because that seems a bit odd."

"I know what you are." Sam said quietly.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I shrugged, before turning to leave.

"We can go to the Frog brothers." Sam said, seeming to drop the intimidation act. "They'll know what to do."

"I said, I don't know what you're talking about." I insisted.

"You were that wolf from last night. I know it." Sam fought.

"You don't know anything!" I snapped. "But if you knew what was best for you, you and your two friends would stay out of it."

"Well it seems like we're already in it now, whether you like it or not!" Sam shouted, "You're the one who knocked on their door anyway. This is their job anyway, they would have found their way into it either way."

I sighed. They had to know the truth. It was the only way. "Fine, let's go to the Boardwalk." I submitted before adding on, "But I'm only telling you guys what's going on, so you know how to defend yourself. Not go on the offense."

"The Frog brothers won't like that." Sam shrugged.

"Well I don't like dragging others into it, but we can't like everyday of our lives."


End file.
